Capoeira da Rua

I have a difficult time reviewing this studio. Capoeira da Rua is a small group (they share studio space with other martial arts groups) that practices capoeira, a traditional Brazilian martial art. If you’re not familiar, think back to the character Eddie from Tekken, the movie «Only the Strong,» or that super cool fight scene in «The Protector» where Tony Jaa gets beat down by some dude (Lateef Crowder) swinging his legs everywhere.
So to begin, you’ll need to understand that capoeira is as much a dance and ritual as it is a martial art. Adapted from the fighting style of the people of Angola (a country in south central Africa), capoeira came about as a way for slaves in Brazil to learn to fight without being discovered. It is disguised as a dance, and thus, can be quite acrobatic and beautiful.
Da’mon, the instructor, teaches capoeira da rua, a blend of the more traditional capoeira angola and the more modern (and acrobatic) capoeria regional. Or at least, he claims to — everything he taught in my brief time was straight angola. Let me get out of the way now that Da’mon is a very talented capoeirista — he’s smooth, fast, and knows what he’s doing. But man, he’s a shitty teacher.
Da’mon doesn’t seem to understand that you need to provide guidance to new students beyond telling them to just follow along. When asked questions about foot placement or transitions from certain movements to others, his most common reply was «it doesn’t matter» when it fact, it did matter quite a bit. So learning even the ginga, the most fundamental movement of capoeira, was more than difficult.
Da’mon often liked to say that he didn’t want to teach us how to play capoeira his way, but show us how to find our own way instead. Which at first was really appealing, and sounded super-​cool (especially coming from a regimented, traditional martial arts background like I do), but in actuality turned out to be a crappy way to do things. He often skipped over or skimped on fundamentals, ignoring that half the class was unable to ginga with any competency, much less queixada or meia lua. It’s on par with an English teacher telling you that she wants to teach you to write your own way, and then letting you figure out the alphabet for yourself.
Class quality varied wildly, as did intensity and workout. There seemed to be no overriding lesson plan — activities were dictated, as best I could tell, by Da’mon’s whims. On the class following my birthday, Da’mon had me play in my «birthday roda.» Understand that playing the roda, even for a few minutes, is exhausting, and I had been attending class for a whopping two weeks (that’s six classes total) at this point. For reasons unknown to me, immediately after class (an hour long workout), Da’mon had me start playing. And didn’t allow me to stop, despite my requests for a break, for another hour and a half. As I lost stamina, I began reverting to my more traditional martial arts training and starting getting aggressive rather than playful. Rather than giving me a break or stepping in to tone things down, Da’mon met my aggression and raised the level.
This was not a positive experience for me — beyond the minor injuries I received, I was furious. When asked, one of the other class members commented that she thought Da’mon enjoyed winning like that; this, despite Da’mons protests that the game was not about winning. When asked directly, he provided several ways to tone down a roda that had gotten too aggressive. None of which, notably, he utilized. As a result, my skull was literally dripping my own blood on the asphalt.
Conclusion? If you’re an experienced capoeirista, you can probably learn a lot from Da’mon. If you’re a novice, give this place wide berth and find another group.
Open disclaimer — I only attended class for a month during the instructor’s «open house» invitation.